Dialing at Random
by Megan
Summary: Who says that Heaven doesn't have a phone line?


Dialing at Random

  
  
by Megan Auffart  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
_Hello. I was inspired by a review I randomly wrote for _Why..._ by Cyber Blastoise. I have no idea why I get so inspired by fanfiction reviews. Anyways, some people could consider this to be offensive. Please don't be angry if you dislike what I have to say. It's a story and a parable, nothing more. It's meant to get a point across, which is that I believe that people sometimes spend their lives without ever realizing how obvious it is that there is a god. I mean, the proof is _right there_, people! Open your eyes. Um... I got kind of off topic. Sorry. Anyways, please don't flame me. If you disagree, tell me and suggest how I can improve my stories. Don't tell me I'm going to Hell, because I somehow doubt you'd know. Rated PG-13 for swearing. Thank you._  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The damn pay-phone wasn't working again! I swore and punched the side of the machine, glaring angrily. Why does this always happen to me? The last pay-phone I used had this white crap all over the handle of the phone, which was so gross and got all over my hand. I had to walk a freakin' half-mile to the nearest Burger King just to wash it off so that I wouldn't get it on my Harley. I won't even guess what that white stuff actually was...   
  
"Dammit!" I swore, and punched at the numbers on the pay-phone angrily. After pressing the zero button about seven times, I stopped as I heard the phone ring. The receiver was still pressed against my ear, as I hadn't removed it before I'd had my little temper tantrum. I listened to the phone ring for about five times and was about to hang up when suddenly the ringing stopped.   
  
"Hello?" I asked, feeling suddenly unsure of myself. What if I had accidentally dialed up some old Japanese lady in the middle of the night? I may be a jerk sometimes, but I hate it when people call me too early. Plus, I have this soft spot for old ladies...so sue me, I like em. They bake you cookies in the winter and knit you sweaters for your birthday. My grandma did that up until the day she died. When the voice spoke at the other end, however, I forgot my worries.   
  
"Heaven. Saint Peter speaking. May I help you?"   
  
I snorted incredulously. Some British guy was having way too much fun at his end of the line. _Well_, I thought, a smirk creeping up on my face, _two can play at this game._   
  
"Ah, yes. Saint Peter, how wonderful to hear from you. Is Jesus there?" I said, using all of my willpower to keep from bursting out laughing.   
  
"Hold, please."   
  
There was a click and suddenly 'Memories' from Cats starts blaring from the receiver at about fifty decibels. I used this time to snicker, wondering who in the world I was really talking to. Someone definitely had no life if this is what they pulled every time someone called them. The music turned back off again and then a different voice came on the line.   
  
"Jesus here. How may I help you?"   
  
I froze, paralyzed. I couldn't move. I could barely breath. I'd heard this voice before. It was in the trees when the wind blew through the leaves. It was the same sound that echoed with my grandmother's laugh and tinkled like the rushing streams I'd used to play besides when I was a little kid. There was no possible way this could be a prank. That voice was all too familiar.   
  
I tried to speak, but all I could manage was this pathetic croaking noise. _Speak!_ I ordered myself. _ When will you get another chance like this? Talk, damn you!_   
  
The voice at the other end of the line chuckled and I felt as if my eardrums would explode in the sheer happiness that the sound brought me. I glanced at my reflection in the Plexiglas windows of the Chinese restaurant behind the pay-phone and noted the crazed smile that lit my face. I looked like I was insane, but as long as I could hear the chuckle I didn't care. Jesus was laughing at me. Life was good.   
  
"Don't worry," the voice said, "You don't need to speak. I already know what is wrong and I will help you."   
  
The phone clicked and went dead, no dial tone or anything. I set down the receiver and tried desperately to remember the numbers that I had dialed, but could only remember an indefinite number of zeros.   
  
I turned around started walking back towards where my motorcycle was parked. I stepped out onto the asphalt and suddenly I noticed how blue the sky was. It was this amazing shade, like the eyes of a cherub or the blue of the oceans they have around Hawaii. I had never noticed how wonderful the sky was, nor noticed the clouds that hung there like soft pillows to rest on after a hard day's work.   
  
A feeling of pure joy stabbed through me, piercing every pore and shooting through every vein like some junkie's heroine, only much more satisfying. The world was utterly beautiful. I wondered why I had never realized it before.   
  
"Thank you." I whispered to the air and got on my Harley. As to where I would go, I couldn't quite say. There was so much out there that I could do and I knew that every bit of it would be wonderful.  
  



End file.
